Psychobabble
by Gurubiness
Summary: If love is surrender, whose war is it anyway? The pain that can erupt from neglect, the pain that can erupt from love in itself, can sometimes merge... into innerconflict. This is Suzuki's case. And what a daring way to vent. Bang.


"**Psychobabble"**

_Suzuki stared in disbelief and disgust at the road before him. Cell phone to his ear, he listened to the voice of the ultimate prick. Or at least the ultimate prick in his mind. His hand was on the steering wheel, white van driving fast down the lane. "How'd you get this number," he spat at his supposed former 'lover.' He listened to the response. Revolting. "I don't get you. You've got the logic of a two year old, Shishiwakamaru. I'm hanging—" Interrupted? How dare that jerk. (Jerk, in Suzuki's eyes, would be the understatement of the century.) "What! Of course not!" Come over? Ludicrous! "Snap to your senses, boy!" He beat the horn with his fist, speeding up and passing the Mitsubishi in front of him. "Good-bye, Shishiwakamaru!" he shouted, flipping the cell phone shut violently and throwing it onto the passenger's seat to his left with great force._

"**Suzuki… You're… always acting as if… you hate me," Shishi whined, leaning into his lover's chest, pathetically looking up at him, grasping his beautiful face with his hands. No reply. "Do you?" There was a slight shake of the blonde's head, as if to slightly say 'no'. Shishi smiled, turning around, straddling the blonde demon in the chair and wrapping his arms around his neck. Suzuki just stared, smiling that charming smile. "Suzuki," Shishiwakamaru began huskily. "We should leave this house. I know you want to. And we can just be alone somewhere, the two of us. I won't be mean. And I'll keep my women away. This is what you want. I can tell." **

**Suzuki'd gotten up, knocking the swordsman to the ground. Who said I wanted that? Moron. I want the opposite. You're just encouraging me. **

**Shishi sat, crestfallen and offended. What nerve.**

'_It's a war, you and me,' Suzuki thought to himself, both hands on the steering wheel. His moss green eyes locked to the dimly lit red bulb in the stoplight. 'Not anymore, though. It would have never happened. My happiness is more important than your sexual contentment, jackass.' Suzuki sighed. 'But… if we were in love… that meant to surrender all other things. But. Was our friendship a war? Whose?' He shook his head, stepping on the gas as the light changed green. 'I'm done. Nevermind it.' _

"Do what I tell you! You, empty that there!" The pistol fit in his hand like a glove. He waved it around as if it were a sparkler. Crackle crackle. "No one has to get hurt here, people, just stick to the program!" The woman behind the counter reached shakily under the desk, cash register open; fear tugged at her girlishly young features, tears welling in her frightened eyes—reach the gun. A shot fired about four inches above her head, a bullet hole in the wall behind her. Eegad.

"DO JUST WHAT I TELL YOU AND NO ONE WILL GET HURT!" He had his finger on the trigger, strong arm locked as if this were perfectly normal. No need to be nervous.

Just robbing a jewellery store.

The door dinged behind him. Heavy panting could be heard, then a frightened—no, shocked—gasp. He turned his head around slightly, sea green eyes full of rage, fear, malice, etcetera, dashing as far back as he could get them to see who had entered. Cops? Nah.

'O, this is just peachy!' he spat inwardly. Not you.

"Suzuki!" Shishi gasped desperately. What…!

Suzuki cocked the gun. "Look, beautiful. Butt out," he choked. Whose fault was this? Your fault. Of course. Like it always is. You're the reason the sky is blue, beautiful…!

But in this world, it was red. Suzuki'd say that to Shishi anyway. The samurai'd always laughed. But that was then.

And this is now.

Shishi stepped forward, reaching out a hand. His violet eyes were set on the immaculate figure of his love before him, tight black tank top, loose khaki pants, running shoes. Fingerless black gloves. With the exposed fingers grasping a gun.

Somehow, he found this very attractive. He still found everything attractive about the blonde demon in front of him. Not as attractive as he found himself, but beside the point.

Though in all reality, that was the point. The point of the gun that Suzuki now held at the samurai-boy behind him, threateningly. The exact point. Target locked.

"Don't come any closer," Suzuki warned, choking back tears, but still maintaining to sound venomous. He wouldn't be able to handle it. Shishi needed to stay where he was. If Suzuki was touched by the boy, he'd melt like butter on a hot summer day. He wanted to vent his anger towards the samurai. But if he was touched by the same one, he'd loose his composure, because even if his personality—his conceit, more so—killed him, made him angry, made him psychotic, he still loved him, a love-hate relationship. But he liked thinking he just loved the physical contact.

And he could be right.

He was beautiful, and Shishi was beautiful. And you know what they say. Birds of a feather flock together.

"**Why do you need me, then! It's so easy to be in love!" Suzuki was fuming. Shishi sat quietly on the engawa, watching Suzuki pace back and forth heatedly in front of the pond. "It's easy to be in love with you, you say! It's not, you know! Not for me!"**

"**MAYBE IF YOU WEREN'T SO WRAPPED UP IN YOURSELF—"**

"**IF I WEREN'T? YOU DIRTY HYPOCRITE, THAT'S WHY I CAN'T STAND YOU!" Suzuki inhaled, trying not to lose his composure. "I need attention, TOO, Shishi. I need to be commended, to be praised. It's not just about you, and it's not just about me; we're 'lovers', but we fight like sworn enemies. It's about us, the both of us."**

"**Eh?"**

"**The world doesn't revolve around you, Shishiwakamaru!" Suzuki choked out, tears welling in his eyes. Don't lose your composure, don't lose your composure.**

"**Why not?"**

**Too late. Tears flowed from the blonde's eyes like a child's. "You're kidding……" he murmured in a broken voice.**

"**No. Why DOESN'T the world revolve around me?" It was a genuine, honest question. "It should." That was the blue-haired boy's conclusion.**

"**You didn't listen to a single thing I just said!" Suzuki yelled, throwing a small rock from the rock garden next to him at Shishi's head, though he missed as he disappeared round the corner.**

_He flipped up the cell phone, answering it bitterly. "Moshi-moshi…" Shishi's voice cut back at him. "Shishi, look I—" Interrupted again. The would-be samurai's words were obviously much more important. And that, my dear Watson, was called sarcasm. "JUST FOR ONCE, SHISHI…—" Again. "SHISHIWAKA! Why can't I ever complete a thought around you! Just once, let me speak a full sentence!" Silence. Fiery retort._

_And then a dial-tone._

"Put the money. In the bag," Suzuki cooed bitterly at the teller he'd scared before. She had her hands raised. Just like everyone else in the room. "You, there! Get down!" He pointed at one man with his hand in his wife's purse. He hesitated, a determined but equally worried look on his face.

Bang, bang.

Nancy Sinatra said, my baby shot me down.

"DO WHAT I TELL YOU, WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO IT," Suzuki boomed, returning the gunpoint to Shishi a metre away. "AND NO ONE WILL NEED TO BE HURT HERE! Do we understand?" His voice became velvety, coaxing. Everyone wasn't sure what to do. He shot the man's body again, leaving Shishi behind him. "NOD IN UNDERSTANDING!" That they did. All but Shishi, of course.

Shishi took another step forward, a calm expression on his face, but with careful footing. Somehow, he'd caught the blonde's attention, as well. Keen awareness? Suzuki waved the gun at him, furrowing his brows even more than they already were, as if to say "go." But Shishi didn't pick up on it; or maybe he refused to.

Clunk.

The bag full of loot plunked down on the glass counter two metres away, the teller's hands raised still. Suzuki looked from the bag to the boy, back and forth for a moment. If he stepped away from Shishi to get the money, he'd be backing down, and giving him a chance to coming closer, to touching him, which he knew the boy would do. But if he didn't move to get the cash, what would be the point of being here?

He decided he was made of flesh, not sugar. No melting today, thanks.

He grabbed the samurai's shirt roughly and dragged him closer to the counter, still holding him at gun-point, and took the money in his other hand. He put the money in one hand, and with the same arm, wrapped Shishi in a violent headlock.

The samurai's hand instinctively rushed to the hilt of his sword at his side. Suzuki cocked the gun. And Shishi's hand fell to his side like a leaf to the autumn ground.

"Nobody move. Do we get that? Nod if we get that," Suzuki said calmly, still venomously. Everyone nodded. "Good. Now, you." He motioned to the second cashier with his head. "See those rings, bracelets, necklaces? Yeah, your merchandise. Throw them in the bag." He switched the gun to other hand—a total switch-around—and tossed the potato sack-esque bag to the middle-aged woman. She didn't catch it. All the money spilled out onto the counter. Suzuki winced. Then nodded as she slowly made to put all the bills back in the bag. She started moving along the counter, opening all the doors. Suzuki put the gun back in his free hand.

Shishiwaka coughed.

"Shishi," Suzuki cooed lovingly at him, stroking his collar bone with his fingers. "You're beautiful. And we all recognize this," he began. Suzuki lifted his head and looked round the room as he spoke again. "ISN'T HE BEAUTIFUL! Nod if you think so!" he boomed demandingly again. Everyone nodded. He beamed. "But. So am I. And we also need to acknowledge that," he continued, louder this time, so that everyone in the room could hear. A woman towards the door stood up to leave. But… it's quite obvious that she didn't make it out.

Last sound she heard was 'boom.'

Suzuki looked around the room, watching the woman at the counter fill his bag up further. He smiled. "Wham, bam, thank you ma'am," he murmured, chuckling to himself. "MAKE NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS! AND NO ONE WILL GET HURT!"

"Suzuki!" Shishi cried out. Suzuki looked down at him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

"Speak, Shishiwakamaru! Speak to me!" he cried back dramatically in return, laughing richly afterwards. Shishi swallowed hard.

"I'm sure… if we could leave and go to your—"

"NO! YOU'RE not coming over! Of course not. And I'm not leaving. Snap out of it, Shi. This is what I'm doing. Your fault. The sky's still blue, too," Suzuki offered a joke, bitter as it was. Definitely due to nervousness. "I'm busy, boy. Leave a message."

"This isn't working, Suzuki…! Why are you being so dense!"

"How on earth would you know!" Suzuki cried, laughing. Incredulous. Nervous.

"I know what's best for you because I love you!"

"If you know what's best for me, then WHY'D I LEAVE YOU?"

Shishi swallowed hard again. (He'd never looked at it that way, with those definite words. It ran over in his head: WHY'D I LEAVE YOU. Total bummer.) Suzuki looked around. He clicked his lips at the middle-aged clerk. She turned round, fear swimming in her eyes.

"Get the stuff in the stands, too. And on the tables." She nodded.

Suzuki grinned, looking to a child by the counters, clinging to her mother.

Bam.

He got a sharp jab in the back of his knee, throwing him off balance. Shishiwakamaru wriggled out from under his arm, pushing the blonde away a bit, as he himself backed off. He lunged for the gun, grabbing Suzuki's wrist, strong arm, with one hand, attempting to pry his love's fingers off the gun with the other. Suzuki, shocked and offended as fuck, grabbed the samurai's hair, pulling him closer. The wrist of his free hand was pressed to the samurai's cheek, forearm fully exposed. The fingers of that hand were entangled violently in the cerulean locks of the young samurai, yanking the hair so roughly it felt as if it would rip from the scalp.

There was a gun between Shishiwakamaru's eyes. Though he failed to recognize this as he bit the blonde's forearm. He'd drawn blood.

Suzuki threw the samurai to the ground, releasing him from gunpoint, and

releasing his grasp of his hair, as well. Suzuki heard the thump on the tiled flooring. That would be Shishi's head, would it?

"You're pushing my temper." Suzuki furrowed his brow at the samurai, smiling. "I've had it up to here, Shishi, with you," he continued, gesturing with his gun hand to his forehead.

Shishi wasn't even looking at him; the boy was staring silently at the tile, ignoring the pain in his head, shoulders, back, hip, knee, etcetera.

"Don't ever try that again, Shi. I strongly advise that," Suzuki began. "This is what I'm doing at the moment, and it's useless to try to stop me! I stick to my guns!" he cried dramatically, exultantly. He caught himself, eyes widening. Then laughed heartily. "No pun intended, of course! Haha!"

He stopped, staring at the unmoving boy before him. Beautiful blue tresses fell carelessly over the boy's shoulders, littering the ground near him. Suzuki wasn't sure what he'd done.

"Shishi, are you scared!" he boomed playfully. "Strong samurai, you don't need to get scared," he followed. Pause. "You've got your fangirls to be scared FOR you," he commented, a hint of jealousy audible.

Shishi made no movement. No sign that he'd even heard the man.

"Shishiwakamaru!"

Nada.

Suzuki was losing his nerve now.

_**You're making me nervous… **_

"Shishi… why aren't you talking now!" he demanded. You could hear that tears could be soon to flowing. "Why are so quiet so suddenly, tengu…!" he exclaimed, gulping silently. Shishi gave no response, not even at being called 'tengu'((1)); Suzuki called him that jokingly always, to raise his temper.

Suzuki stepped closer, his brow furrowing. There was a thump on the counter. Bag. Someone had taken out a cell phone. As soon as Suzuki heard the beeping, he shot the cell phone clean in the woman's hands; and let me tell you, cell phones are not bullet proof vests. The woman fell backwards. Suzuki looked to the samurai, eyes mad, mouth set.

"…Shi…?" he murmured softly, leaning down. A man stood up, burly, slowly he stood. Suzuki saw from the corner of his eye, and shot next to the man's head. "Do just what I tell you, I said. I never told you to stand. Sit back down, please. It's… hahaah… For your own good!" he said calmly, rich and dramatic, with a hint of humour here and there; 'I'm very Suzuki'.

Shishi stared at Suzuki, mind churning behind fuchsia-coloured orbs. Did he care for robberies? No, not really. Did he care if innocent lives were taken? No, not at all; such is life, right? Did he care IF there were robberies? Duh, no; another 'such is life' case. He smiled to himself as Suzuki looked back down to what the blonde had thought was a—dare say!—dead Shishiwakamaru. (Ch, as if Shishiwakamaru could be dead; killed by a clown, no less. HA!)

Suzuki stared wide-eyed, in the meantime, at the curve of those lips, the eerie light dancing in those eyes, the complexion of creamy, spotless, blemish-free skin beneath the fluorescent lights above. Suzuki, you're nervous, stop, keep this up, you're fine, I can do this…

…No, I can't!

Suzuki felt as if his heart would burst. He looked at the smiling face, the beautiful, immaculate, smiling face, of the boy on the ground below him, Shishiwakamaru, his Shishiwaka… and they sat there, in the jewellery store that not even ten minutes ago, Suzuki had been robbing. Why? Because he was mad at Shishi! Because he wanted to rebel, he wanted an adventure, and something to get his blood flowing, fast paced, where he could vent his anger physically (which is what he, as a martial artist, needs and usually resorts to; physical venting.) And hell, jewellery store robbery, venting, fast-paced adventure; he gets what he needs done, and gets some loot in return for… well, whatever he deems necessary!

But all the while… still on some wicked, twisted and completely insane level (for no one in their right mind would go through that)… he still loved him. So he was half and half. Be mad, whatever, rob the jewellery store, because this guy's a prick and isn't even WORTHY of a sliver of your thoughts… Or… keep on lovin' 'im? That, friends, is how the beautiful artist's heart was held in two.

Or was it held?

Shishi thrust his hand up grabbing the blonde's wrist. Suzuki made a face, and pulled his hand away; don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me! Shishi chuckled, then knitting his brows together and grinning maniacally, he grabbed Suzuki's shirt collar, pulling him forward, down to the ground. The blueheaded boy leaned forward, up, to whisper in Suzuki's ear. O, how romantic, you say! How sweet! Awww.

"We're in this together, clown," Shishi whispered, still bearing a twisted smile. Suzuki blinked, confused as to what exactly Shishi was referring to. Shishi, still holding Suzuki's shirt, stood up suddenly, yanking the ex-clown up with him. People had stood up, and one woman was about to head out the door.

Whoosh.

Too slow, yes? No. Too fast! Shishi unsheathed his sword, throwing it straight through the woman's back. She fell forward. He quickly walked over and retrieved it, holding it out before him.

Shishi looked to Suzuki after a moment of looking around. Everyone, as if on a drill team, had sat down again. He was in search of something cool to say. Like in those old gangster films he'd watched with Jin and Touya. But was at a loss. Suzuki smiled.

"That's all folks!" Suzuki boomed. Shishi laughed, moving elegantly over to the woman moving slowly to finish packing the last of the stuff into the bag. He snatched it from her, grinning a fang-bearing grin. She nearly screeched.

Suzuki smiled at the group still left, sitting frightened and wide-eyed. He cocked the gun once more. "Now, now, don't you tell a soul about this, you lot! Do. We. Understand?" he said coolly. "Nod in what?" Everyone nodded slowly…

"Nod in understanding…?" they voiced, slowly, simultaneously. Suzuki laughed loudly, sticking the gun in its holder on his belt; yeehaw, cowboy. He clapped.

"Veeeeeerry good! Remember, I didn't tell you to report this to authorities. And you don't know whether or not I have a photographic memory!" He laughed again, Shishi staring at him from a few metres away. The samurai scoffed inwardly, and began to walk over to the blonde, throwing the sack over his shoulder with the great force of a hero (villain, in this case). And fell to his knees under the weight.

"What do we… do now, peirrot?" Shishi hissed, rising shakily from the ground, taking the bag up again. Suzuki rushed over to him, snatching the bag up and grinning.

"Absolutely nothing," he whispered, going to the exit, Shishi following at his side. Suzuki turned around, walking backwards from the store. He grinned at the people. "Stand and continue shopping, you guys! Haha! Toodles!" he called mockingly, laughing richly afterwards. He grabbed Shishi's hand and tugged him along, running quickly to the van.

"What NOW?" Shishi demanded, hopping into the van from the driver's side, Suzuki quickly following. The blonde threw the sack on the floor under the seat, switched gears, and took off, pedal to the metal, burning rubber. No traffic. Suzuki leaned over, grabbing Shishi's haori with one hand (steering with the other, of course), and pulled him closer. The blonde kissed him fiercely, briefly, then pushed him away a bit, going back to… driving.

"What do we do NOW?" Suzuki asked, teasing. Shishi 'hmph'ed, crossing his arms and looking out the window, feigning irritation. But he smiled through the glass, watching the surroundings pass by faster than he could run.

And that's saying something.

Okay, y'all. That's the end. This song was written to Frou Frou's "Psychobabble." VERY good song. I think the ending got a little wordy and lost the feel of the song… Maybe because I was listening to LCD Soundsystem and Morningwood and Imogen Heap, instead of Frou Frou or Psychobabble. Ah well. I like this. Even if Suzuki COULD HAVE been a wee bit out of character. It was fun to write anyway. I skipped a verse at the end, the second chorus. O well, if I tried to add it, I'd have to re-do the entire ending. And I do not want to do that. Anywho, I'm going to do a big ol' series of Frou Frou songfics. All Suzuwaka. I'll probably have most of their album on here! Haha! Thanks for reading, please review, here are notes.

((1 Tengu is a.. really… really… ugly… Japanese bird flying thingymabobber demon! Tengu, actually, were fabled to raise Ushiwakamaru (Minamoto no Yoshitsune; Shishi is a spoof of Ushiwakamaru, as Makintarou is a spoof of Kintarou, Uraurashima is a spoof of Urashima, Kuromomotarou of Momotarou…) in the temple called Kurama (Eh?) in the Hiei Mountains (EH!) near Kyoto. They could fly and were mischievous… and ugly. Very ugly. Bleh.))

Love ya! ♥


End file.
